Staring Over the Edge
by TessaStarDean
Summary: Changed this to be a series of MicMac ficlets between 100 and 1000 words . There should be 50 in all, to complete my 50ficlets claim. Each ficlet stands alone; the only thing connecting them is the pairing.
1. Abyss

Michelle watched him at the bar, noting the slight tremor in his hand as he raised the glass to his mouth. His jaw was set, and his eyes haunted, and Michelle realized that she knew that look. She had seen it on her own face every time she looked in the mirror in the months following Tony's death.

She stood there for a long time, debating what she should do. She and Mac Taylor weren't exactly friends, and she worried that her presence would only upset him more. At the same time, though, she couldn't in good conscience walk away - not while he was staring down at the abyss with no one to pull him back.

"Hey, Mac," she said quietly, stepping up behind him.

"Dessler."

"Maybe it's time you went home."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Obviously."

At the sarcasm in her voice, the detective looked at her sharply. "What do you want, Dessler? I'm not exactly looking for company."

Michelle sighed, regretting her tone and realizing that their usual arguing was not going to get them anywhere. Reaching out, she rested her hands on his back.

"Come on, Mac," she urged, her voice lowering. "This isn't helping."

Her hands were warm, and their heat mingled with the alcohol, spreading throughout his entire body. He tried to ignore it, but he found himself relaxing into her touch.

"Please," she whispered.

Finally, Mac nodded. Pulling out his wallet, he threw his money onto the bar and then pushed himself to his feet. As he steadied himself and turned towards the door, Michelle's hands left him, and he suddenly felt cold. But as they walked outside, her hand fell to his back again, and warmth spread out from that spot.

She hailed them a cab and they climbed in, sitting so close that their shoulders touched. When Michelle gave the driver his address, Mac frowned.

"How do you know where I live?"

She gave him a half-smile. "I used to be a fed, Mac. I know how to get information."

He tried to smile at her humor, but it came out as more of a grimace. The rest of the ride was silent, and when they got to his apartment, Michelle paid the cabbie and climbed out after him.

"Let me walk you up," she said quietly.

He didn't answer, but she followed him up anyway. Unlocking the door, he let her into his apartment before slipping off his jacket and hanging it in the closet. When he came back to the living room, the two of them just stood there, not making eye contact.

Michelle didn't know what the hell she was doing. Part of her told her to leave, to let him deal with the events of the day on his own. But she knew that he wouldn't deal, that his demons would just continue to haunt him. She couldn't let that happen. For some reason - one that she wasn't really willing to examine too closely - Michelle needed to let him know that he wasn't alone.

He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her that she didn't have to stay, but she was already moving. Without a word, she embraced him, her arms circling around him tightly. Mac froze at the contact, his mind telling him that he should pull away, put some distance between them. But once again his body betrayed him, and he hugged her back, almost clinging to her in desperation. He took in a shuddering breath and buried his face in her hair.

"He's going to be okay, Mac," she whispered. "Reed is going to be okay."

The tears started to come, and he was completely unprepared for that. But instead of trying to hide it, he just held her tighter, taking everything she was giving. Eventually, they sank to the floor, Michelle gently rocking him.

"Stay," he asked, his voice breaking.

She nodded, placing a lingering kiss on his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered.


	2. Motion

"Sometimes we just can't see where our lives are taking us. We think we know exactly where we're headed, but then in one seemingly-normal day, it can all change. You can everything you've ever dreamed off, and then lose it all in a heartbeat.

I thought my life was over when Tony died. We had just found each other again, and when he was taken from a second time...it hurt to breathe. The only thing I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide until I was dead too. Whether there was anything on the other side or not, at least I wouldn't be missing him.

But then I came to New York and met Mac Taylor. It was NOT love at first sight. We would argue about every case we worked on, and I wanted to wring his neck more than once. Slowly, though, we got to know each other, and I learned that he had lost his whole world, too. It turned out we had a lot more in common than we though, and we became friends.

And now I can't imagine my life without him. I'm not saying that I don't miss Tony - because a part of me will always miss him. Just like Mac will always miss Claire. But I really believe now that everything happens for a reason. And even though the deaths of people we loved seemed like the end of the world, they set in motion th events that eventually brought us together. And I can't regret that."

My eyes met his. "I love you, Mac. And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

I passed the mic to Stella and sat back down, ignoring the applause and sniffles of our guests as I looked at my new husband. Mac's eyes were moist, and he smiled warmly at me.

"I love you, too," he murmured, kissing me softly.


	3. Pain

It hurt, and Michelle hated to admit that. She had tried her hardest not to fall for Mac Taylor, but it had been an uphill from the start. Not since her husband's death had she met a man that infuriated her and made her melt all at the same time. Eventually, it became obvious that there was something there.

But just as she accepted that and got ready to admit her feelings to him, Peyton had come back. Michelle knew about her, of course - Mac had opened up to her one night about the relationship and why it had fallen apart.

And that was how she knew what Peyton had meant to him. And it was why she told herself it wasn't a surprise when Mac stopped hanging out with her. Peyton had been the first serious woman since his wife, and Michelle knew that they probably had a lot to talk about.

But that didn't make it hurt any less. As she sat alone in her apartment on a night when she would have normally been having dinner with Mac, she angrily wiped at the tears falling down her face. She couldn't blame him - he hadn't promised her anything, or even admitted that he felt anything for her. If Peyton made him happy, then she had no right to get in the way of that.

She sighed when there was a knock on her door. Stella had mentioned that she would be stopping by; the Greek detective had seen what was going on, and she wanted to help her new friend. Michelle didn't have the heart to tell her that she really just wanted to sit home and wallow.

When she opened the door, though, she found Mac standing there, a peaceful look on his face. Michelle tried to take a steadying breath, but her chest had constricted painfully.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked.

"We normally have dinner on Tuesdays."

His answer was so matter-of-fact that her eyes filled with tears again. "Why aren't you with her?" she whispered.

Mac's expression softened, and he reached out to wipe away her tears. "Because she's not the one I want," he said gently.

Relief swept through her as Mac stepped forward and pulled her body against his. And as he leaned down to kiss her, Michelle couldn't help but think that all the pain had been worth it.


	4. Sight

He was blindfolded. And for Mac, that was the worst part. With his sight taken, the fact that his hands were tied behind his back didn't really matter - he couldn't see what was going on around him, so he couldn't make any plans for escape.

"I don't understand why you're fighting this," Joe sighed. "All I'm asking is that you lose a tiny bit of evidence."

Mac shook his head. "You went through all this just to get your brother off the hook? You staged a robbery, kidnapped a cop and made up an elaborate ruse to mislead us all for that this?"

"My brother is innocent -"

"Your brother is a murderer!" Mac snapped. "And when he goes to court, the jury will see the evidence and convict him -!"

He fell to the side as something crashed into the side of his head. He thought that Joe had hit him with the butt of his gun, and he knew that antagonizing the man any further would be dangerous. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself back up onto his knees.

"Joe, listen to me -"

"NO!" the man screamed. "If you won't do this the easy way, then we'll just have to up the ante!"

A door opened, and then a scuffle. Mac's ears strained as he heard someone struggling, and as he realized that he knew the voice, his blood ran cold and his chest tightened.

"I've watched you, Mac Taylor," the man continued. "I knew that you might be difficult, picking the moral high road instead of just doing what you're told! So I decided to grab a little incentive to help you make your decision. At first, I was going to take Detective Bonasera. You two are close, obviously. But as I continued to watch you, I noticed the way you looked at Detective Dessler, and I knew that she was the better choice..."

"You leave her alone!" Mac barked. "This is between you and me!"

Joe chuckled. "Too late. She's already here."

Something happened, and Mac heard Michelle cry out in pain. His blood now boiled, imagining the ways that Joe could be hurting her. Blindfold or not, Mac knew that he had to make a move now. He couldn't compromise the case, and there was no way he could let Michelle die because of this. Tightening his muscles, he strained against the ropes binding his hands.

"You're an idiot."

Mac froze when he heard Michelle's voice. He couldn't see her, but she sounded cool and confident - the exact opposite of what he was feeling just then.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Joe demanded.

Mac could almost hear her shrug. "You thought taking me was going to make him choose to help you? All you've managed to do is piss us both off - and that's not good. For you, at least."

Joe laughed. "And what's gonna happen? He's tied up and I've got you at gunpoint."

"The fatal flaw of almost every criminal."

"And what's that?"

"You always underestimate the good guys."

Mac wished he could have seen what was happening next. There was a loud crack, and he heard Joe grunt as someone fell to the floor. The scuffle continued, but there were no gunshots, and the detective was grateful for that. He listened hard, taking in each punch, kick and grunt, trying vainly to figure out who was winning.

Eventually, there was one loud smack followed by a heavy thud, and then everything stopped. Mac pulled at his bonds again, desperate to know if Michelle was alright, but then there were small hands over his, carefully untying the ropes. When he was finally free, those hands moved up to the blindfold, slowly sliding it off of his eyes.

Mac blinked at the sudden light, and he soon focused on the face in front of him. There were a few cuts on bruises on her cheek and forehead, but she was alive, and Joe was lying unconscious on the floor behind her.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he murmured, smiling at her.

Michelle returned the grin. "I'll take that as a thank you. We should call Flack and Stella - they're worried sick about you."

Mac struggled to his feet, his legs protesting after being in the same position for so long. Michelle reached out to steady him, her body close to his. He took a hold of her hands, bringing her even closer.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're wel -"

He kissed her, cutting off any further words. They would have to call for backup, but for the moment, he just wanted to reassure himself that they were both safe, and that she was his.


	5. Sound

He had fully intended to go in and yell at her. She had taken a huge risk, and she was lucky to even be breathing at this point. He had seen the gunman turn, a grenade in his left hand. He went to pull the pin and –

Mac shook his head, trying to rid himself of the images and the fear. He hoped that yelling at Michelle would help.

But when he stormed into the locker room, she wasn't there. He frowned – he was sure that Stella had said the other detective was heading here. Pausing, he tried to think of where else she might be.

It was then that he heard the water running. A blush slowly creeping up his neck, Mac realized that she was taking a shower. He took a deep breath and told himself that it was time to leave – he would have to yell at her later.

Just as he turned around, though, he heard something else. He stopped again, ignoring the voice that told him how inappropriate this was, and listened.

_I know I can't be with you,_

_I do what I have to do._

_But I have the sense to recognize_

_That I don't know how to let you go_

She was singing. Mac wasn't sure why, but the sound entranced him, and he couldn't move. Her voice was soft and sweet, and the anger he had been feeling earlier slowly faded away.

Unfortunately, he was so busy listening to her singing that he didn't realize that the water had been turned off. Which meant that he was completely unprepared when Michelle came around the corner, clad in a white towel with her wet hair swept up. She stopped when she saw him, a wary look on her face.

"Did you need something?" she asked.

It took everything in his power to keep his eyes locked on her face, and to not let them travel down her body.

"It can wait," he finally said.

"Good. Let me get dressed and then maybe we can grab some dinner? I'm starving."

Mac nodded. "I'll be in my office."

He was almost to the door when he paused, turning back around to find Michelle staring at him, a curious expression on her face. Giving her a small smile, he opened the door and nodded at her.

"You have a nice voice, by the way."

As he turned, he caught sight of her mouth dropping open and a blush moving up her cheeks. Inwardly chuckling, he let the door close behind him and headed towards his office – dinner was going to be interesting.


	6. Parts

Alexis watched her mother out of the corner of her eye as they put the puzzle together. It was the biggest one she had ever tried, but they were doing well – she was always doing puzzles with her parents, and she knew that 250 pieces wasn't going to be that difficult.

"Momma?" she finally asked.

"Yeah, Lexi?"

"How did you and Daddy get together?"

Michelle smiled. "Why do you want to know?"

The little girl shrugged. "Aunt Stella was telling me about how her and Uncle Don got together. It was very pretty, with a ball and everything."

"Yes it was."

Lexi's eyes widened. "Were you there?"

"Yep. I got to watch the whole thing happen."

"Wow," she breathed. "Did Daddy take you to the ball?"

"No. I went alone."

"But a princess never goes alone!"

"Cinderella did."

Lexi thought about that for a second. "Well, I guess she did. But why did you go alone? Where was Daddy?"

"He was chasing bad guys."

"So how did you get together?"

Michelle smiled, putting another piece into place. "He saved me."

"From a dragon?" the little girl whispered.

"No, not a dragon," she laughed. "From an evil warlord."

Lexi gasped. "Why did the warlord take you?"

"A long time ago, Mommy used to work for the king. Doing my job, I made a lot of people mad because I caught them doing bad things. And I caught this warlord's brother."

"Did he get thrown in a dungeon?"

Michelle nodded. "And the king won't ever let him out."

"So his brother was mad?"

"Very mad. He kidnapped me. He wanted the king to free his brother, and he told me he was going to kill me if the king didn't give him what he wanted."

"Oh no!"

"He was very mean."

"Were you scared?" Lexi asked, her voice small.

She nodded again. "Very. But I couldn't let him see it. So I sat there and kept my mouth shut, and tried to think of a way to escape."

"Did you get out?"

"Almost. But then he caught me and brought me back. And then he was even angrier."

"But Daddy saved you, right?" she asked, her eyes as big as saucers. "He beat the bad man?"

Michelle reached out and ran her fingers through her daughter's dark hair. "Yes," she said gently. "Your Daddy saved me. He came in with all of his knights, and they killed the evil warlord."

"Then what?"

"Then I untied her hands and brought her to her feet and we shared true love's kiss."

Lexi smiled at the sound of her father's voice. "Daddy!!"

Mac laughed as he bent down and caught her, whisking her up into his arms. "Hello, princess. Are you and Mommy having story time?"

She nodded. "Mommy was telling me about the evil warlord that took her and tried to hurt her!" Reaching out, she played with his tie. "But then you came and saved her."

Mac kissed her on her forehead. "Of course I did. Just like someday a prince will save you."

Lexi's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Not for a long time, though. You're still my little princess, okay?"

She hugged him. "Okay, Daddy. I colored a new picture. You wanna see?"

"Of course."

Putting her down, Mac watched as Lexi ran to her room. Then he smiled at his wife and pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

"An evil warlord, huh?"

Michelle shrugged. "She liked it."

"So did I. Besides, she doesn't need to know about mob bosses and terrorists trying to negotiate with the US government. She's a little young."

"You just want her to stay young forever."

"Don't you?"

She sighed, resting her head on his chest. "Yeah. But she's going to grow up to be a beautiful princess, Mac."

He smiled, kissing the top of her head. "Just like her mother," he whispered.


	7. Proof

Michelle sighed as she dropped the bouquet of flowers into the trash. Stepping into her office, Mac frowned at the sight.

"Don't you like flowers?"

She looked up, her expression gentling when she saw that it was him. "I love flowers, actually."

"Which is why throwing them in the trash makes so much sense."

"They're from an ex-boyfriend."

"It seems like he doesn't want to be an ex anymore."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "We dated a very long time ago. As in, before I met my husband. We ran into each other a couple weeks ago and I agreed to have a drink with him, for old time's sake. Big mistake."

"So now he's sending flowers."

"Which is stupid!" she exclaimed. "They don't prove anything. They certainly don't prove that he actually cares about me for anything more than getting back in my pants."

Mac thought about that. "It does mean he was thinking about you, though."

"But it doesn't mean he's not thinking about himself even more."

"True," he conceded. "So does that mean you never want flowers?"

She smiled. "No. They're a very nice small gesture. But I like to have a big gesture for actual proof of affection."

Sliding his hands into his pockets, Mac regarded her with a curious expression. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Something that shows how much he cares…something that shows how much he'd be willing to give up for me." She paused, locking her eyes on a file lying open on her desk. "Saving my life, for instance," she said quietly.

Mac froze at her words, suddenly aware of the dull ache in his shoulder – a small reminder of the bullet he had taken just the month before.

"That's a pretty big gesture," he said slowly.

Michelle nodded. "It is. Of course, it could mean a lot of other things, too. Maybe he was just doing his job. Maybe he would have taken a bullet for anyone."

"Could be," he conceded. "It might be worth exploring, though."

"Well, I was going to…"

"But?"

She finally looked up, a small smile on her lips as she shrugged. "He didn't make any little gestures after the big one."

He couldn't help but smile back. "Would dinner count? As a small gesture, I mean."

"Dinner definitely counts."

Mac nodded. "So do you want to –"

"Yes."

His smile widened. "Now?"

"Yes."

He stretched out his hand. "Then let's go."

Sliding her hand into his, Michelle let him lead her out of her office.


	8. Heart

"I heart you?"

Michelle looked up from the notes she was taking. "Excuse me?"

Mac held up a cell phone. "The victim's," he explained. "The last text she received was only a few minutes before her death. And it says 'I heart you.'"

She smiled. "And you don't understand it?"

"I'm trying to understand why he wouldn't just say that he loves her."

"Because that's not what it means." At the confused look on his face, she laughed aloud. "It's not really a romantic term, Mac. I could say that I heart chocolate."

He frowned. "That sounds ridiculous."

"That's because you're not a sixteen-year-old girl. I wouldn't be surprised if one of her girlfriends sent it. Most guys don't use the word 'heart' as a verb."

Mac seemed lost in thought as they moved through the rest of the crime scene. He collected the evidence, thorough as always, but there was something in his eyes that told Michelle there was something on his mind. Working with him over the past year had taught her a lot about him, though, and she gave him his space, knowing that he would say something to her when he was ready.

The silence continued until they got back into the SUV and headed toward the lab. Mac sat in the passenger seat and stared out the window as Michelle drove, occasionally sneaking glances at him.

"So it's not a romantic term?" he suddenly asked.

Michelle tried to hide her surprise at his question. "No, not usually."

He turned to look at her. "So what do you say to someone when it's more than just liking them, but you're not sure yet if it's love?"

She froze at his words, trying to keep her heart from pounding through her chest. Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes locked on the road.

"Why aren't you sure if it's love?"

He thought about that for a moment. "I'm pretty sure. But I'm worried that it's too soon to tell her."

"But you think you love her?"

"Yes."

Turning, she locked her gaze with his. "Then you should tell her that."

He smiled, dipping his head slightly. "Okay then."

Michelle couldn't help but smile back before she brought her eyes back to the road. A moment later, she felt his hand brush against hers as he slowly entwined their fingers. His hand was warm, and she loved these little moments that they shared – the few times they were away from everyone else at work, when they could openly admit that they were together. She knew that in a couple minutes he would take his hand away again, but this time it didn't bother her. He had just given her more assurance of how he felt than he ever had before, and that made everything else worth it.


	9. Soul

Church was something Michelle did off and on for her entire life. Her parents had been good Catholics, and they had gone to Mass every Sunday. The lessons came home as well, and she could remember reading the Bible every night with her father. Those had been happy times.

She fell away from the faith when she was a teenager. It was the death of her father – her very best friend in the entire world – that had pushed her over the edge. Sometimes, late at night, she thought she could hear his voice, telling her not to blame God, that this was all a part of His plan. But that made her ashamed of the anger she felt inside, so she did her best to drown his voice out.

That all changed when she met Tony and started a life with him. He was a man of faith, and as she watched him and got to know him, she realized how like her father he was. Maybe God had given her a gift, filling that hold she had carried around for so long.

Tony's death was a blow unlike any she'd ever known. She had been pulled undercover so quickly that she'd barely had time to grieve. She stopped going to Mass, but late at night she would go for walks and find herself sitting in a pew at church. She would stare up at the cross, waiting for something – anything.

And now she was back. Free of CTU and a detective with the NYPD, she had once again found her life. Kneeling in the pew, she clasped her hands, closing her eyes in prayer.

"I've come a long way," she murmured. "And you've taken the two people I loved most from me. I was angry, and I think for a while I hated you." She took a deep breath. 'But once again you've given me a gift I never expected. He's a good man, and he makes me happy in a way I never thought I'd feel again. I just…Please don't take him away from me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't think I could take that kind of pain a third time. And he's lost a lot, too. Please…just let us be happy together. Just…just let us be."

Wiping her eyes, Michelle made the sign of the cross before getting to her feet. She caught sight of Father Patrick and nodded to him – he was the one who heard her confession week after week, and he had helped her get to this point. Another gift from God.

The sun outside was so bright that it was almost blinding. Squinting, she finally found Mac Taylor, leaning against the side of his SUV. When he saw her, he approached slowly, worry in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You sounded strange on the phone."

Michelle smiled and raised herself up, brushing her lips against his. "I'm ready," she answered.

Mac's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, slipping her hand into his. "I'm sure."


	10. Heaven

**A/N: Bill and Karen are characters from 24.**

Molly Taylor frowned as she stood outside of her parents' bedroom. Her mother was crying, while her father held her tightly, doing his best to comfort her as they lay on the bed. Slowly, Molly moved into the room, wondering why her mother was so sad; she wasn't used to either of her parents crying, and the sight upset her.

"Mommy?"

Michelle turned at the sound of her daughter's voice. "Oh, baby."

"What's the matter?"

Leaning down, Michelle picked Molly up, laying her down between herself and Mac. The little girl reached out and touched her mother's face, wiping away some of the tears that were coursing down her cheeks. Michelle tried to smile at her, but her mouth wouldn't move, and more tears fell from her eyes.

"Something happened to Grampa Bill, sweetheart."

Molly's frown deepened. "Is he okay?"

Michelle shook her head. "No, baby. He's not."

Molly turned to her father, searching his eyes. "What happened?" she demanded, her panic rising.

Reaching out, Mac ran his fingers through her hair. "He's gone, Molly," he said quietly. "He died."

Tears immediately filled her eyes. Now she understood why her mother was crying so much – Grampa Bill was family. Mac spoke softly, trying to comfort his daughter, but she didn't hear him, her own mind racing as she tried to deal with what she had just been told. But then something occurred to her, and she turned back to Michelle.

"But Mommy, you shouldn't be sad!"

"Why not?"

Molly touched her mother's face again. "Because that means Grampa Bill is in Heaven. God is taking care of him now."

Michelle's tears fell harder at that. She wrapped her arms around Molly and hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. "That's right, baby. Grampa Bill is safe now."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because she misses him," Mac said gently. "We're all going to miss him. He's safe now, but it'll be hard because we can't see him."

"But he's up there waiting for us, right?"

Mac gave her a small smile. "Yes, sweetheart."

The little girl thought for a moment. "I bet Gramma Karen misses him a lot." She looked up at her parents. "Can we go see her?"

Michelle nodded. "In a little bit, honey."

"Okay. I'll give Gramma a big hug then."

"I'm sure that will make her feel better."

Molly nodded. "Can I go pack?"

"We'll need to help you, but you can get started. We'll be right there."

She leaned over and kissed her mother before turning and kissing her father as well. Then she slid off of the bed and walked out, headed for her room.

"How did we get such a smart daughter?" Michelle asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mac pulled her close again, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "We only let her hang out with smart people," he joked.

Michelle laughed quietly and then sniffed. "I'm not sure I can do this, Mac."

"Yes you can," he assured her. "You're not alone in this. Molly and I will be there the whole time. Whatever you need, we're here."

"Can you just hold me a little longer?"

Mac nodded, kissing her forehead. "That I can do."


	11. Hell

Waiting was hell. Mac had had to do a lot of waiting in his life, but this was by far the worst. Sitting in the hard chair, he kept his eyes locked on the floor as he tried to keep his breathing under control.

"They'll be okay, Mac," Flack said quietly.

The older man nodded. "I just wish somebody would tell me something."

"We finished talking to the guy that crashed into you."

He looked up. "And?"

Don's expression softened. "Heart attack."

Mac let out a long breath. He had been expecting a drunk driver, and he had been ready to be angry. A heart attack changed everything.

"Is he alright?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Flack nodded. "Yeah, he's up in the ICU. Doc said he's gonna make it." He glanced over at his friend. "What about you? Any cuts or scrapes you refused to tell the doctor about?"

"No, I'm fine. He…he hit her side of the car."

"How early is it for the baby?"

"Only a couple weeks. If the C-section goes well, he'll most likely be alright. Bu the nurse said they only had a small window to get him out. Otherwise…there's a chance they could…we could lose them both."

Time marched on, and Mac lost track of it completely. He was vaguely aware of the different members of his team that came to sit with him – Stella rubbed his back, murmuring words of comfort in his ear, while Danny and Flack sat quietly, offering their support just by being there. Nurses moved past, but none of them stopped, none of them came with news of how his wife and son were doing. His body was exhausted, and it begged him to lie down, to close his eyes so that it could try and recuperate from the shock and the stress. But Mac refused to let that happen – as long as they were in surgery, he'd be awake.

"Mr. Taylor?"

His head snapped up at the sound of a new voice. It took a moment for his eyes to focus, and then he realized that it was the doctor standing in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet, bracing himself for the worst. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friends rise as well.

"Yes?"

The man looked tired, but he let out a small smile. "Congratulations. You have a healthy son."

Mac still held his breath. "And Michelle?"

"She's going to be just fine. There was some bleeding, but we managed to stop it. They're both resting now, and you can see them if you'd like."

The detective finally let out a long breath, and it seemed as though he'd been holding it for hours. "I'd like that."

Leaving his friends behind, he followed the doctor down the hall until they reached a room near the end. Stepping in slowly, Mac gazed at his wife, taking in the cuts and bruises on her face. But she was smiling, staring at their son as she held him in her arms.

"Hey," he said quietly, moving to her side.

Michelle turned to him, her eyes filled with tears above her smile. "Hey," she whispered.

Reaching out, he pushed the hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. "I thought I'd lost you."

She took his hand in hers. "We're okay," she assured him. "Did you see him? He's beautiful."

Mac nodded, smiling at their sleeping baby. "Yes he is." He ran his hand over his son's head. "Noah," he whispered, his voice cracking.

Slipping off his shoes, he slowly climbed up onto the bed, pulling Michelle close. He kissed her gently as they both stared at Noah, amazed and thankful at the gift they had been given. Finally, Mac's eyes started to slide shut, his body finally demanding the rest that he had denied it.

"I love you," he murmured sleepily. "Both of you."

"And we love you," she replied, entwining their fingers. "Now sleep."

And he did.


	12. Rain

Michelle smiled as she leaned on the doorframe of her daughter's room. Mac sat cross-legged on the bed, their six-year-old daughter on his lap as they stared out the window. It had been raining all day long, and Madeline had watched in fascination as large puddles appeared in the yard.

"You ready, Maddy?" Mac asked, resting his chin on his daughter's shoulder.

She nodded. "Ready!"

Both of them brought their hands forward and started to clap, their voices soon drifting over to Michelle.

_"Rain, rain go away, come again another day."_

They sang the line a few times through and then Maddy turned to her father.

"Will the rain go away now, Daddy?"

"It might take a little while. But eventually it will."

It was then that Maddy saw Michelle, and her face lit up. "Will you sing it with us too, Mommy?"

She smiled and came into the room, sitting down next to Mac and running her fingers through Madeline's hair.

"Of course I will."


	13. Sun

Mac frowned as he stared down at the body. The kid couldn't have been more than twenty years old, and yet he was lying there, his head a few yards away. Mac had seen a lot of weird things in his time as a New York City detective, but beheadings were few and far between.

"Do we have any idea what happened?" he asked.

"Guy came riding through on a horse and chopped his head off. We've got witnesses, but the only thing they can really describe is the horse."

Mac turned in surprise at the sound of Michelle's voice. But anything he'd been about to say went out the window when he saw her. His eyes moved up and down her body, taking in the jean shorts that were barely there, and the green halter that left her shoulders bare. Mac was quite certain that he had never seen that much of her skin before, and the sight of it now made his blood run south.

"You're staring," she pointed out.

He shook his head, forcing his eyes to meet hers. He needed to regain his control – there was a dead body and he had a job to do.

"Did the department change its dress code policy?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Michelle glared at him. "The only reason I'm here is because I was in the Park when the crime occurred. Otherwise, I'd still be lying on my blanket and soaking up the sun." She smiled, looking him up and down. "It wouldn't hurt you to get some sun too, you know."

Mac couldn't help but grin. "Well," he said slowly. "I've got a new girlfriend. Maybe if I ask nicely, she'll help me with that."

She shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at him with a playful smile as she moved toward the scene.

"Maybe."


	14. Wind

Mac chased after the perp, his arms and legs pumping as hard as they could. Buildings rushed by in a blur of metal and concrete, and they turned down another nameless alley as the pursuit continued.

But he could feel his body tiring. Mac knew that he wasn't young anymore, and this chase had been going on for far too long. Something moved to his right, and he turned his head slightly to see Michelle overtaking him. She had been far behind them at the beginning, but she was running all-out now, her eyes locked on the perp's back.

Michelle passed him easily, and continued to close the distance between herself and the man fleeing from them.

"Police!" she bellowed. "Stop!"

He ignored her, just as he had Mac. But she was closer now, and she suddenly leaped forward, tackling him from behind. The perp cursed in protest, but she just cuffed him and dragged him to his feet.

"Quit your whining," she snapped.

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Mac waited until they go the suspect into the back of the car. He was still breathing pretty heavily, and that fact frustrated him beyond belief.

"That guy ran like the wind," he muttered, slamming the door.

Michelle smirked at him. "You gettin' too old for this job, Taylor?"

He glared at her. "Not even close."

She nodded, taking a step closer and bringing herself right into his personal space. "Good," she said quietly.

Mac's breath caught at her closeness, and he realized that, for the first time, he could smell her perfume. Searching her eyes, he tried to read her expression, but he just found himself more and more confused. Michelle nodded again, as though she had found an answer she'd been looking for.

"Good," she repeated, walking around him and getting into the car.

For a moment, Mac just stared at her. Then he shook his head and laughed, walking over to the driver's side.

If nothing else, she would keep him young.


	15. Food

"Wow."

Michelle glanced up as the water set down her dish, and found Mac staring at her plate. Blushing, she ducked her head.

"Yeah, it's a little bigger than I was expecting."

He smiled. "I'm just glad you didn't order a salad."

"Do you have something against lettuce?"

Mac chuckled. "No. It's just…I've been on enough first dates to dread salad. No woman lives on salad, so it's nice to see you eat real food."

Her blush deepened, but this time she smiled at him. "Well, just so you're warned – I love food. And I love to eat."

He nodded, his smile widening. "Glad to hear it."

She watched him for another minute and then reached out, resting her hand on his.

"I like to share, too," she said shyly.

Mac slowly entwined their fingers. "I like that even better."


	16. Pure

Mac took a deep breath as he stepped out of the lab. It had been snowing all day, and now the city was blanketed in pure white snow. Taking a left, he made his way down the nearly-empty street, deciding that a walk would do him some good before heading home.

He never saw the snowball coming. It hit him square in the back of the head, and he turned to see Michelle standing there, laughing gleefully. Mac didn't think he'd ever seen her having so much fun, and he couldn't help but smile in return.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Dessler," he called.

Michelle put her hands on her hips and tried to put a serious expression on her face. "Is that a threat?" she asked.

"A friendly warning."

The words weren't even out of his mouth before Michelle had launched another snowball. He lunged to the side, but it still caught him in the ear. Gathering snow, he started his own attack in retaliation.

Snowballs flying, the fight lasted for several minutes. Mac couldn't remember a time when he had laughed so hard, and with each throw he moved forward, closing the distance between them. Soon, they weren't even throwing actual balls anymore – they were just scooping snow up and flinging it at the other.

When he got closer, Michelle tried her hardest to get snow down the back of his shirt. But Mac was too quick for her, and he wrestled her arms away from him. Picking up snow, he tried to pay her back in kind, but she was stronger than she looked, and they were soon wrestling, their cheeks red from the cold. Mac pushed her backwards, trying to gain the upper hand, when his foot slipped and he went down, pulling her with him. They landed in a snow bank, still laughing, with Michelle pinned beneath him. Raising his head, Mac stared at her, amazed at how much fun they had just had.

"I win," he smiled, still breathing heavily.

Michelle arched an eyebrow. "Oh, you think so?"

As he nodded, she picked up handful of snow and shoved it down the back of his shirt. Mac instantly started squirming, goosebumps forming on his flesh as snow slithered down his back and started to melt. Michelle laughed aloud, and then reached up, taking his face in hers and kissing him firmly.

Mac was caught off-guard, but it wasn't long before he was kissing her back. He forgot about the melting snow soaking through his shirt, and he forgot that they were on the side of a Manhattan street. All he could focus on was the way she felt beneath him, the way she smelled, and the way she tasted. Tilting his head, his nudged her mouth open and took the kiss deeper, smiling when Michelle moaned deeply.

Her body shifted under his, her legs spreading so that he was cradled between them. Mac could admit that he'd imagined what this would feel like, but he never actually believed it would happen. Slipping his hands inside her jacket, he pressed himself against her, causing both of them to groan with want.

Eventually, he pulled back and dropped his head into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily. Michelle reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair, letting them drift down his neck.

"Mac?" she finally asked.

"Mmm?"

"I'm cold."

He could have kicked himself for being so thoughtless. Pushing himself up, he reached down and pulled her to her feet, helping her to brush the snow off of her back. They were both blushing furiously, and Mac took a deep breath before slipping his hand into hers and leading her back out onto the sidewalk.

"Sorry about that," he eventually said, his voice quiet.

Michelle smiled up at him. "It's okay. It was worth it." She shrugged. "Besides…maybe now you can take me home and warm me up."

That made him blush even more, and even Michelle seemed surprised at her own boldness. Tucking her into his side, Mac wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her tight, moving his mouth to her ear.

"I've got some ideas for that."

This time her shivers had nothing to do with the cold.


	17. Blood

Mac frowned as he once again got Michelle's voicemail. He had been trying to reach her all day, and his panic was starting to rise. He had left messages, asking her to call him as soon as she could, but still there was nothing. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and his hands started to shake. She had made a lot of enemies in her time as a federal agent, and it was always in the back of his mind that one of them might come after her someday.

Standing in front of her door, he took a few deep breaths. He didn't want her to see how worried he was, or to know of the fear that sometimes gripped him when he didn't know where she was. Clenching and unclenching his fists a couple times, he raised a hand and knocked.

But nothing happened. Mac's frown deepened as he continued to stand there, straining for any sound on the other side of the door. Nothing. Unable to wait any longer, he pulled out the key she had given him and let himself into her apartment.

It was dark inside. Mac moved slowly, his eyes sweeping over everything.

"Michelle!" he called, his voice shaking slightly.

No answer.

He entered the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. Broken shards of glass littered the floor, and there dark red droplets in front of the sink. Mac crouched down to get a better look.

Blood.

This time the panic flooded through him, and he could barely see the screen on his phone as he punched in the numbers he knew all too well. Only once before had he felt this lost and scared, and he didn't think he could survive it a second time...

"Mac?"

He froze with the phone halfway to his ear. Not daring to believe it, he moved out into the living room. The phone slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor as he rushed forward, gathering her up into his arms.

"Michelle," he breathed, his voice gruff with emotion.

She was alright. Mac buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, holding her so tightly it was a wonder she had any air at all. Caught off-guard by his sudden display of affection, Michelle embraced him, running her fingers through his short hair.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? What happened?"

He shook his head, unable to answer. Michelle pulled back a little and kissed him softly, amazed at the way he his heart was pounding against her.

"Talk to me, Mac," she urged quietly. "What's going on?"

Leaning his forehead against hers, Mac closed his eyes.

"I couldn't find you," he explained, his voice low. "I've been calling and calling, and you didn't pick up. And then I came here and you -"

Michelle caressed his face. "Oh baby," she whispered. "Today was my spa day, remember? I turned my phone off as soon as I got there."

Mac exhaled, suddenly feeling foolish. Then he remembered the kitchen and opened his eyes.

"There's glass on the floor, and blood -"

Michelle's eyes widened. "I dropped a glass this morning," she explained quickly. I cut my hand trying to clean it up, and then I was running late..."

She held up her hand, and Mac saw the bandage wrapped around her palm. Slowly, he took her hand in his and kissed it.

"I was so scared," he admitted.

Michelle bit her lip and then led him over to the couch, pulling him down next to her. They both laid down, and Mac rested his head on her chest. She had never seen him this vulnerable before, and it took her breath away. Running her fingers through his hair, she tried to calm him.

"Is this something that's bothered you before?" she finally asked.

He nodded. "I know what your job was like as a fed, Michelle. I know the kind of people you dealt with."

"That doesn't mean one of them is going to come after me."

"I know," he said quietly.

Hearing the uncertainty lingering in his voice, she took his face in her hands and kissed him slowly. A moment later he was relaxing into her, his hands molding around her hips as he deepened the kiss, letting her surround him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered when they pulled back, her eyes locked with his.

"You can't promise that."

"True." She paused. "But you can't promise that you won't leave me, too. We just have to take it on faith that this is where we're supposed to be."

Mac thought about that for a moment and then nodded, kissing her gently. "I love you," he murmured.

She smiled. "I love you."

He rested his head on her chest once again, holding her tightly. Her arms wrapped around him and for the first time in a long time, Mac felt safe. Knowing he didn't have to be strong right then, he let himself take comfort in her, and drifted off to sleep.


	18. Song

Michelle smiled as she found a seat in the back. The little club was almost packed, despite the fact that it was definitely off the beaten path. She ordered a drink from a passing waiter and then settled back, enjoying the music.

Staring up at the stage, her eyes locked onto Mac. She had never seen him so happy, or so at ease. There was a small smile on his face as he played, his fingers moving over the guitar as though they were home.

The music played on, and Michelle quickly lost track of time. She appreciated the talent of the rest of the band, but she really only had eyes for Mac. Somewhere during the second song, his gaze met hers, and she was treated to a full grin; she knew she had made the right decision in coming.

When the set was finished, Mac immediately set down his guitar and headed across the room, threading his way through the crowd until he reached her table.

"May I join you?" he asked, the light dancing in his eyes.

"Of course."

As he took a seat, Mac raised a hand to the bartender. Michelle watched in amusement as a drink was immediately made and a waiter brought it over.

"Star treatment, huh?"

Mac chuckled. "Dave, the bartender, he's a friend of mine. We play for him for free once in awhile, and he takes care of our drinks."

"Sweet deal."

"It works." He took a drink. "I didn't know you were a fan of jazz."

Michelle blushed. "I'm not, really. Stella mentioned that you were playing tonight, and I thought I'd come see you."

"Fair enough." He paused. "Did you enjoy it, though? The music?"

She nodded. "I did. Except…"

Mac's eyebrows shot up. "Except…?"

Shrugging, Michelle turned her attention to the crowd, trying to hide the deep red creeping up her cheeks.

"When you're playing…I can't ask you to dance."

He stared at her for a minute, questioning in his eyes. Then he set down his glass and stood, offering her his hand.

"I'm not playing now," he said quietly.

She beamed at him. Taking his hand, she let him lead her out onto the dance floor, closing her eyes briefly as he pulled her into his arms. His aftershave was faint this late in the day, but she could still smell it, and she rested her cheek against his as they began to move.

The song was familiar, but for the life of her, Michelle couldn't think of the name of it. Instead, all she could focus on was Mac – the warmth of his skin, the way he felt, the way he smelled. She felt as though her body was on fire, but that only made her move closer.

By the time Mac pulled back slightly to look her in the eye, Michelle could hardly breathe. Her thoughts raced at warp speed, but she couldn't hear a single one. Reaching up, Mac gently touched her face, letting his fingers drift across her skin.

And then he was kissing her. Every last thought fled from her mind as her body took over, responding of its own volition. His lips were soft, and soon she was sighing against him, letting him nudge her mouth open and take it deeper.

"Wow," he whispered when they finally pull back. "I've been waiting a long time to do that."

She smiled. "I'm glad you did."

He kissed the side of her head before moving his mouth to her ear. "Have dinner with me tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah."

His hold on her tightened. "One more dance," he whispered.

She nodded, settling her head on his shoulder. "One more."


	19. Break

Michelle popped her head into Mac's office. "Hey."

He didn't even look up. "What do you need?"

She stood there for a moment, her face sobering. "Nothing. I was just…I thought maybe you could use a break."

He shook his head. "I don't have time for a break."

"C'mon, Mac. You've been working nonstop –"

"And I need to keep doing that. I have to break this case. So," he nodded at the door before briefly looking at her. "Please."

Without waiting for her response, he went back to the file in front of him, dismissing her. Michelle stared at him for a long time before shaking her head and walking out.

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A couple of hours later, Stella walked in to find Mac flipping his phone shut and cursing under his breath.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"I can't find Michelle."

"Things okay between the two of you?"

"They are…except that I think I made a mistake today."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

"I just want to find her, and apologize. But it would seem that she's ignoring me."

Stella moved toward the door and then stopped, glancing back over her shoulder. "I saw her heading for the roof about ten minutes ago." Her eyes met his. "Fix this, Mac," she said quietly. "Don't let her go."

Grabbing his jacket, he followed her out the door.

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Mac's heart leaped into his throat as he stepped out onto the roof. Michelle was directly in front of him, sitting on the ledge as she looked out over the city. Her back was to him, and it bothered him that he couldn't see her face, couldn't tell what she was thinking. Forcing himself to stay calm, at least on the outside, he took a step toward her.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"We both know I'm not going to jump."

Closing the distance between them, Mac slid an arm around her waist from behind. Then he leaned forward until his mouth was next to her ear.

"I still feel better if I've got a hold on you." When she didn't say anything in return, he sighed, burying his face in her hair. "Michelle, I'm sorry –"

"I know how much your job means to you, Mac. I know that sometimes it can consume you. I knew that before we even got involved." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "But if we're going to make this work…you have to let me in."

"I know that," he said quietly. "And I'm trying, even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. I'm just not good at this, Michelle."

"At what?"

"Being with someone."

She smiled, leaning back against him and taking a hold of the hand he had on her waist. "You're better than you think you are."

They stood there for a few minutes, letting the sounds of the city wash over them. Headlights and street lamps danced far below them as the day descended into night, and there was a peace in the familiarity. Finally, Mac tightened his hold on her and kissed her ear lightly.

"Does this mean you'll get off the ledge now?"

Michelle laughed and started to push herself up. "I guess I can do that."

"Let me," he said quietly.

Wrapping his other arm around her, Mac lifted her up and moved back, pulling her off of the ledge. Then he set her down on her feet gently and she turned around, hugging him to her as she rested her head on his chest and breathed him in. Mac let his fingers run through her curls for another minute before kissing her forehead.

"Michelle…"

"I know," she said quietly, pulling back and looking at him. "You have to get back to work."

"One more hour," he said quietly. "Then come get me and we'll go to dinner. Maybe I'll be able to find something looking at the file with fresh eyes tomorrow."

"I think that's a good idea."

Smiling at her, Mac slipped his hand into hers and they moved toward the access door. Just as they reached it, he squeezed her fingers and looked at her thoughtfully.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"For what?"

He kissed her softly on the lips. "For not giving up on me."

She smiled, taking his face in her hands. "Never," she whispered.


	20. Friend

Mac stopped as soon as he walked into the locker room. He had been hoping to grab his things and go home; lately, there had been too many nights without sleep, and too many cases that drained him emotionally. He was tired, and he knew himself well enough to realize that he needed to rest before his body crashed.

But all thoughts of leaving fled when he saw who was there. Michelle sat on the bench that ran between the lockers, her head in her hands. Her shoulders slumped, she looked lost and tired – so different from how he was used to seeing her.

Truth be told, Mac wasn't sure how he felt about the new detective from Los Angeles. She was opinionated as hell, and they had gotten each other's faces more than once. But she was a damn good cop, and he couldn't deny that he trusted her with his life.

Her hands fell away from her face, and Mac's eyes narrowed. Then, without even realizing it, he was moving, sitting beside her and taking a hold of her wrists. His eyes moved back and forth between the blood on her fingers and the cut on her forehead.

"What the hell happened, Dessler?" he demanded.

For a minute she just stared at his fingers where they touched her skin. Then she shook her head slowly, wincing in pain.

"Perp decided he didn't want to be cuffed," she murmured.

He reached up, gently probing the area around the cut. "Did you get this checked out."

"I'm fine, Mac."

"I'll take that as a no, then." Pushing himself up from the bench, he went to his locker and opened it. He pulled down a first aid kit and then sat beside her again, pulling out antiseptic and a band-aid. "Hold still."

Michelle watched his face as he slowly and carefully cleaned the blood away; he kept his eyes locked on her forehead.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly.

"You're hurt."

"You hate me."

Mac sighed. "I don't hate you."

"It seems like you do."

His eyes shifted to hers for the briefest of seconds before turning back to the task at hand. "I'm just not entirely sure what to do with you."

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm don't know what else I can do to prove myself to you."

Mac froze in the act of pressing the band-aid to her skin. He let his eyes meet hers again, and this time he held her gaze, his frown deepening.

"You've already proven yourself more than once, Michelle. You're a valuable member of my team. No one disputes that."

She gave him a ghost of a smile. "That's the first kind thing you've said to me."

"It is, isn't it?" He dropped his eyes, and found himself staring at the blood on her fingers. Reaching out, he gently took her hands in his and wiped them clean. "Maybe we could start over," he murmured. "Maybe we could try to be friends."

Her smile grew. "I'd like that."

His lips turned upward as he looked at her, a little surprised at the sincerity of the words that came of his mouth. "So would I."


	21. Lover

As he climbed into bed, Mac glanced over at Michelle and saw that she was frowning as she read through her magazine. He watched her for a minute, but when the frown only deepened, he reached out and rested his hand on her thigh.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She glanced up at him and then back down at her magazine. "I'm just a little…perturbed."

"By what?"

She sighed and pointed at the article she was reading. "It's about the average number of lovers people have in their lives. And the number is…higher, than I expected."

"What is it?"

"Seven."

He watched her intently. "And you've had less?"

Michelle nodded. "Three."

Mac wondered if he was walking into dangerous territory, but he couldn't stop himself from asking. "Before me or including me?"

She looked over and smiled at him. Leaning closer, she kissed his cheek and snuggled against his chest, letting her magazine fall to the side. "Including you." She laced her fingers through his. "You, Tony and my college boyfriend. That's it."

Mac brought his other hand to her hair, his fingers running through it gently. "Was it a long time between your boyfriend and meeting Tony?"

She nodded. "A few years. David…it didn't end well. Until I met Tony, I wasn't sure I'd get involved with anybody ever again."

He willed himself to keep his fingers going through her hair. "That bad?"

She was silent for a long time. "He convinced me I was nothing without him," she whispered. "It took me a long time to get the courage to leave him. Scariest thing I've ever done in my life."

Mac held her tighter, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

She placed a gentle kiss on his chest. "It's okay. I've had two of the most amazing men since then. And I wouldn't trade either of you." They were both silent for a minute, and then she smirked. "You've had more, haven't you?"

"More what?"

"Lovers."

She looked up just in time to see a faint blush rise to his cheeks as he cleared his throat. "Yes. A few."

"It can't be that bad."

His blush deepened. "According to your article, my number is…just about average."

Michelle's smirk grew into a grin. "Higher or lower?"

"Lower…" He sighed. "Six."

She laughed, and kissed him. "It's okay, Mac. I don't care how many women you've been with before me. You're mine now. That's all that matters."

He saw the truth of her words in her eyes, and he kissed her deeply. "I was hoping you'd be my last," he said quietly, his mouth moving to her neck.

Michelle's eyes closed as she shifted her body closer. "I'd really like that."

He rolled until he was on top of her. "Good," he whispered. "Because I have no intention of letting you go."

Her only response was to hold him tighter.


	22. Secret

**A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've added another one of these. Hope you enjoy!!**

Stella leaned against the doorframe as she watched Mac sit in his chair and stare out into the night. Outwardly, he seemed like he always had – hard-working and determined. But lately she had noticed little things that told her he wasn't doing okay. His smile never quite reached his eyes, and his shoulders were just a little slumped. He was tired, and it wasn't physically.

"You don't look so hot," she observed.

He looked over his shoulder; when he saw her standing there, he turned his chair back to his desk.

"I was just thinking."

"Not about work, though," Stella pointed out, coming into the room and sitting down. "I know your work thinking face, Mac. And that's not it."

He sighed, giving her a rueful look. "I'm not sure I like you knowing me that well."

"Too late." Stella gave him a small smile. "Talk to me." When he didn't answer, she decided to push it a little further. "Is it Michelle?"

The tightening around his eyes gave him away, and he knew it. "How did you know?"

"I have eyes."

"Very funny."

"You like her, Mac. It's obvious. Why won't you just ask her out?"

"I have. More than once."

Stella frowned. "I'm confused."

"She said no, or avoided the question, every single time."

"But…I thought she liked you back."

"So did I."

She thought for a minute. "There's got to be something else going on."

"Maybe she just isn't interested."

Stella shook her head. "No. She's interested. The rest of us can see it clear as day." She bit her lip in thought. "You should go to her apartment. Show her that you're not giving up on her."

Mac frowned. "I'm not sure –"

"Do you want to give up on her?"

"No, but –"

"Then go."

"Now?"

"Do you have something better to do?"

He smiled. "No."

She smiled back. "Then go."

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Mac didn't like the way his hand shook as he knocked on her door. Taking a deep breath, he put both hands in his pocket and stood there, trying not to count the seconds it took her to answer. As time slowly passed, he wondered if he should knock again or just go home – but he knew that Stella would never let him forget it if he didn't try his best to talk to Michelle.

Just as he made the decision to knock again, though, the door opened, and he found himself staring at the girl in question. Her eyes were a little wide, and he could tell that she hadn't expected him to be standing on her doorstep.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"What are you doing here?" Michelle blurted. She closed her eyes and shook her head, obviously trying to regain control. "I'm sorry," she said slowly, her voice calmer. "That was rude. I just…"

"You weren't expecting me."

She gave him a small smile. "Exactly."

Mac couldn't help but notice that she hadn't yet opened the door to let him in. Shifting his weight around, he tried not to sound nervous. "I was thinking maybe we –"

"Who's at the door, Mommy?"

Michelle froze, the look of fear back in her eyes. Mac bent down a little and saw a little boy about four years old coming up to stand beside his mother, and wrapping his arm around one of her legs.

"Hi, there," Mac smiled. "I'm one of your mommy's friends."

"From work?" the little boy asked.

"Yep." He stretched out his hand. "I'm Mac."

The little boy shook his hand lightly. "My name is Josh."

"It's very nice to meet you, Josh."

Michelle rested her hand on her son's head and sighed, looking up at Mac. "Would you like to come in?"

His smile widened as he stood up straight again. "I'd like that a lot."

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"So you have a son," Mac said quietly as they sat together on the couch, Josh already tucked in bed and fast asleep.

Michelle nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yeah."

"He's a great little boy."

She looked up at that, a look of relief and pride on her face. "He really is."

"Is that why you wouldn't go out with me? You're with Josh's father? You could have just told me you were involved –"

"No," she interrupted. "I'm not…his father is dead. I didn't even know I was pregnant until after Tony…It's just me and Josh now." She shook her head and took a deep breath. "I like you, Mac. I like you a lot. But having a child changes things, and I was afraid to bring you into my life. I knew that no matter how I felt about you, I had to think about Josh first. And if you didn't want kids…" She sighed and finally looked him right in the eye. "I don't want us to fall in love with you and then have you leave."

Mac sat there for a long minute, thinking things through. Then he leaned over and kissed her softly. Michelle gasped, but then she was kissing him back, her hands clutching his forearms as he cradled her face. When they finally pulled away, he let his thumbs drift back and forth across her skin as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"I'd really like to take you and Josh to the Park tomorrow," he said quietly, his eyes locked on hers.

Michelle stared at him, hope rising in her chest. "Are you sure?" she asked, her words heavy with meaning.

Mac smiled and kissed her again. "I'm sure," he whispered firmly.


	23. Drink

"I think I should go home," Michelle muttered, staring into her empty glass. "Before I decide to do something stupid and get drunk."

Stella reached out, resting a hand on her friend's arm. "You've got nothing to worry about, Michelle."

"And if our positions were switched?" she asked, her voice rising slightly. "If Flack were out right now, having a drink with one of his ex-girlfriends, would you just be sitting at home calmly, not worrying?"

"No," Stella admitted. "But Flack wouldn't be out having a drink with one of his ex-girlfriends. He knows I'd kill him, and he's not that stupid." She paused, taking a breath. "This isn't the same thing. Mac isn't just out with some girl. He's out with Peyton."

"Exactly!" Michelle explained, slamming her glass down onto the bar. "Peyton! This isn't just some woman, Stella. It's a woman that he loved. And he's out with her, right now –"

"Telling her that there can't be anything between us, because I'm in love with someone else."

Michelle froze at the sound of the deep voice behind her, a voice that she would know anywhere. Then his hands were on her shoulders, and he was close enough that she could smell his cologne.

"If you don't mind, Stella," Mac said quietly. "I'm going to take my girlfriend home now."

She smiled. "That sounds like a good idea, Mac."

Gently, he pulled Michelle off of the stool and steered her towards the door. Neither said anything as they walked out the door and into the cool November air, and Michelle stepped forward to hail a cab. But as she raised her arm, Mac caught her hand in his and pulled her into his side.

"Let's walk," he said quietly.

Michelle sighed as they moved down the sidewalk together. "You weren't supposed to hear that," she admitted. "Are you mad?"

He frowned. "Why would I be mad?"

"Because it sounded like I didn't trust you. And that's not what I meant, Mac –"

He squeezed her hand, a small smile on her face. "I know that," he assured her. "But I wish you would have told me you didn't want me to meet with Peyton tonight."

"That would have seemed jealous," she muttered.

Mac stopped, tugging on her hand until she was forced to turn and face him. "It didn't even occur to me," he said, "that you might be upset by it. Peyton and I needed to talk." His eyes narrowed, and he frowned at her, reaching up to brush a stray curl from her face. "What were you so afraid of?" he asked. "That I would leave you for her?"

Michelle shrugged, but he could see the tears in her eyes. Leaning in, his kissed her softly, letting it linger. She pressed her body against his, letting him enfold her, and just taking comfort from the way his touch made her feel. When they finally separated, she rested her head on his chest as her hands rested on his waist inside of his suit jacket.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," he told her firmly. "I should have realized how this would make you feel."

Michelle smiled, looking up at him. "Well, sometimes you can be clueless when it comes to women."

He smiled back. "That's what's so great about having you. You can straighten me out when I do something foolish." He paused. "I meant what I said in the bar, Michelle. I love you. And I'm not going on anywhere."

She leaned in and kissed him again. "I love you," she whispered. "I think that's what made me so scared." She laughed a little. "Which is funny, since I never feel afraid when I'm _with_ you. It's only when I'm not with you and I let my brain wander."

Mac pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. "Then let's make sure you stay with me then, okay?"

She sighed happily, tightening her hold on him. "Okay," she murmured.


	24. Telephone

Mac smiled as his cell phone rang, and he saw the name on the screen. Flipping it open, he sat down on the couch, letting himself relax for the first time that day.

"Hi," he said warmly. "I was hoping you'd call soon."

"I just got in," Michelle told him. "There was a delay in Chicago."

"How's L.A.?"

She shrugged, forgetting for the moment that he couldn't see her. "The same as it always is."

There was something in her voice, but Mac decided to let it go for the time being, hoping that it was just tiredness from the flight.

"What time do you have to be in court tomorrow?"

"Eight. The D.A. is hoping to get me in and out in one day."

"That would be nice."

"Yeah, it would. I already miss my bed. I hate hotels."

Mac frowned. "I thought Bill offered you a room at his house?"

There was some hesitation on the other end. "He did."

"Too many memories?" he asked quietly.

She sighed. "Yeah. I just want to do this and get done, you know?"

"I want the same thing." He paused, leaning back against the cushions. "I miss you," he said quietly.

Michelle couldn't help but smile. "I haven't even been gone a day."

"Yeah, I know –"

"I miss you too, Mac," she admitted.

"You should get some sleep," he said after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow when I'm done?"

"I'll be here."

"Goodnight, Mac."

"Goodnight."

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"You sound tired," Mac observed as soon as Michelle answered the phone the next night.

"Cross was hell," she admitted. "I hate that terrorists have enough money to hire the best damn lawyers in the country."

"At least it's over."

He heard the sigh, and he knew that it wouldn't be good news coming next. "Actually, it's not. The defense asked for a continuance and got it, and he's still not done with my cross."

"How long are we talking?" Mac asked slowly.

"I don't know."

"Are you okay?"

Michelle shrugged, crawling into bed, the phone pressed to her ear. "I'm okay." She glanced at the clock. "It's late in New York. You should go to bed."

"You know me, I don't sleep much anyway."

She pulled the covers up around her chin and reached out to shut the light off. "Maybe you could stay on the phone then," she said quietly.

Mac nodded, laying down on the couch. "Of course. What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything. I don't care. I just want to hear your voice."

"You're making me blush."

Michelle smiled. "Tell me about the case you're working on right now."

"That's not a very comforting topic."

"It is, though."

Mac frowned. "How so?"

"Because I know you're going to catch the bad guy."

Smiling, Mac started to talk.

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"You were supposed to be home a week ago."

Michelle sighed. "I know, Mac. I'm sorry. But this continuance screwed everything up. I should be finished by tomorrow."

"And then you'll be home?"

She stopped in the middle of taking off her shoes, a frown forming on her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, Mac. I know you." She paused, her frown deepening when he didn't respond. "Are you…are you afraid that I won't come home?"

Mac took a minute to clear his throat. "You have a lot out there, Michelle. A lot of memories, a lot of history –"

"I'm not her, Mac," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I'm not Peyton. I'm coming home as soon as I can, and I don't plan on leaving again without you."

He sat down slowly on the bed, letting her words sink into every corner of his body.

"I love you," he said quietly.

"And I love you. Don't forget that, Mac."

"I won't," he promised. "But I'll be happier when you're here every day to remind me."

"I'm on my way, baby. I'm on my way."


	25. Glass

He was so hard, it was no wonder he shattered like glass. There were no cracks, no warning signs – he just broke in the middle of the corridor, his pieces skittering across the cold linoleum floor.

Picking those pieces up wasn't her job. But in that one moment, there was no one else, and she stepped forward without truly realizing what she was doing. She reached out, catching his tears and vaguely wondering if she could somehow store them, if she kept good care of them, maybe they could be put back inside afterward.

But she lost track of the tears when suddenly her hands were full of him. He was all muscle and sharp angles, and his weight carried them both down to the ground.

It felt like a thousand needles piercing her skin. With every shake of his shoulders, his edges cut her, and for a second she thought she could see deep angry gashes on her arms, as though she were holding razorblades. But then she blinked the tears and the red fell away and she realized that she wasn't holding glass – she was holding a man.

"I was supposed to protect him," Mac whispered, his jaw moving against the crook of her neck.

She held him tighter, letting the pain cut deeper.


	26. Serve

**A/N: This ficlet is slightly different from the others, in that Michelle works at CTU (Counter Terrorist Unit) New York, and is not a detective in the lab. **

She had learned in church that you couldn't serve two masters. She had spent most of her life re-learning that lesson the hard way.

Her new assignment from CTU sat on the desk in front of her, and she stared at it with a cold knot in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't just some undercover op that would take her away for six months. She would have to sever every tie with the life she had now, and she'd never be able to go back.

She hated that she was even considering it. But CTU had been her life for so long, that the decision to accept was almost automatic. Almost.

Oddly enough, she found herself thinking of Jack. He had sacrificed everything for his job and his nation until there was nothing left. She had seen him after China – he was barely even a shell of the man he had once been.

She didn't want that to be her. But this was her job, the very thing she had been trained to do. Not liking the assignment wasn't grounds to defy her superiors.

Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath and gave the director her answer.

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"Taylor."

Michelle smiled when he answered the phone. "Hey," she said softly.

There was an immediate change in his tone. "Hi. Is everything okay?"

"Mmm-hmmm," she murmured. "I was just wondering if you were free for dinner."

He looked at his watch. "It's just five now. You're not usually out of work this early. Is this a special occasion?"

She took a deep breath. "I thought we could celebrate my leaving CTU."

Mac stopped, shock evident in his voice. "What?"

"They gave me an assignment I couldn't take, Mac. And when I respectfully declined, they gave me an ultimatum – take the job, or find a new employer."

"Michelle…"

"I had to choose between you and them…and you're more important to me."

Mac couldn't help the smile that came over him. "Where do you want to meet?"

"I'm halfway to the lab now."

He could hear the relief in her voice that he was supporting her decision. "Then I'll see you soon."


	27. Truth

**A/N: Okay, so this one is based on the last one...what would happen if Michelle decided the other way? **

For him, truth was an absolute, something he could find and measure and track. For her, it was ever-changing, ever-evolving, and different from every angle. And sometimes, there were too many truths, and she had to choose between them.

The truth was that she loved him. The truth was that she loved her job. The truth was that she could see herself marrying Mac and settling down. It was also that there were bad people in this world who needed to be stopped.

It had happened this time almost the same way it had happened last time. A timed explosion of her car, in a way that had everyone convinced she had been inside. Between the intensity of the fire and the amount of time it had burned, there were no real remains for anyone to identify – and CTU had enough people on the payroll to make the documents look official.

But this right here – this was the hardest part. He had been to her grave every day since, his body so tense that it hurt her. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to tell him that she was okay, that this was just something she had to do. He had lost so much, and it was so unfair to rip it all away from him again. But she couldn't go to him, and she knew that. It was just another one of those truths.

Michelle swallowed her tears and rolled the window up, not even glancing at the driver.

"Let's go," she said dully.


	28. Lie

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**A/N: This is a continuation of the last one. And I think it concludes this particular storyline.**

It hadn't been a simple lie to begin with, and now it was even more complicated. Michelle stared down at her hands, and saw that they were shaking. Her brain tried to tell them to stop, but somewhere along the way the message got lost, and they just continued to shake.

She knew what CTU expected of her, what they would tell her to do. But she wasn't willing to do that. Nothing on earth could make her do that. Standing up on legs that were just as shaky as her hands, she threw everything she had into a bag and ran out the door.

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It had been eight weeks since she had faked her death and gone to ground. Eight weeks that Mac had mourned her, and eight weeks that she had regretted her decision to take the assignment. Eight weeks that she had done nothing but cry herself to sleep and wish that she was in his bed, surrounded by him.

And now she wondered if he'd even speak to her.

The door in front of her opened, and Michelle found herself staring at the man she had abandoned. He was thinner than the last time she had seen him, and his eyes were hollow and lifeless. But as they focused on her and his brain realized what exactly he was seeing, a spark of life shot through them, as though he were suddenly waking up.

"Mac," she whispered brokenly.

He reached out to touch her, but didn't make contact, as though afraid that he would find nothing but empty air. Michelle caught his hand in hers and brought it against her cheek, her eyes closing at the feel of his skin against hers.

"Mac," she whispered again.

And then he was kissing her. It wasn't slow or gentle, but demanding and hot; he dragged her body against his and she could have wept with relief at being in his arms again. Without even realizing it, she was pulling into the apartment and slammed against the door, his body painfully and amazingly pressed against hers.

Neither spoke as clothes were ripped off and they moved back towards the bedroom. Michelle knew that there would be bruises on both of them in the morning, but she didn't care. She just needed to feel him, even as a small voice in the back of her mind told her that this could be the last time.

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He wasn't holding her when she woke up, and even though she knew she didn't deserve it, it still hurt. Rolling over, she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

"Mac?"

He didn't look at her. "You had to fake your death for an eight-week op?" he asked hoarsely.

"It was supposed to last a year. Maybe more."

He half-turned. "What happened?"

"I couldn't do it."

He shook his head. "That's not like you. You see things through to the end." Stopping suddenly, he let out a bitter laugh. "At least I thought you did."

"I couldn't stay away from you."

Mac stood up, heading for the hallway. "You left me."

"I shouldn't have."

He stopped and turned around, finally facing her. Anger and hurt warred in his eyes, but she thought she saw a hope there as well.

"What did you expect me to do?" he demanded. "Welcome you back with open arms?"

Michelle slid out of bed and began to get dressed. "No."

"So what was this then? You come back for a night and then disappear again?"

She shook her head, sliding her shirt on. "I quit CTU."

That made him stop again. "What?"

"I left. I'm done with them." She paused. "I wanted it all with you, you know. Marriage, kids…I wanted a life with you."

He watched her carefully. "Then why did you choose them over me?"

"Because I thought I was doing the right thing. Because you and I both know that keeping people safe takes sacrifice. And honestly, Mac, if our positions were switched…can you tell me that you wouldn't have done what I did?"

His eyes told her that he couldn't. "So what made you change your mind?"

"I'm pregnant." He just stared at her, and she dropped her gaze. "Being undercover, that gave me two options. Blow my cover and get killed, or get an abortion. I didn't like either of them, so I told CTU I was done. They fought me on it, but they're dealing with the paperwork, getting me my life back. Everything except you."

Mac stared at her for a moment longer. "Is it…" He cleared his throat. "Is it mine?"

"Yes."

His eyes widened a little bit at that, and she thought she could see tears in them as well. And then he was moving forward, burying his head in the crook of her neck and holding her tightly. Her breath caught in her throat as she clung to him.

"Do you hate me?" she asked.

"No," he said firmly.

"I hurt you."

"Just tell me you're here now," he whispered. "Tell me you'll stay, that you're mine. That you're both mine."

"I'm here. We're yours. God, Mac, we're yours."

He kissed her just below her ear. "Then we'll figure the rest out later," he murmured.


	29. Sugar

Mac paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He almost hadn't come. He and Michelle had been at each other's throats all day, butting heads on almost every aspect of the case. But it was over now, and he couldn't forget the haunted look in her eyes. So he had searched the lab until he found her in the break room, head in her hands as she sat on the couch.

"You look a little lost," he said quietly.

She lifted her head and gave him a weak smile. "It's been a long day."

He nodded. "Yes it has." Stepping inside, he sat down and handed her one of the cups of coffee he was holding. "Here."

She looked at it suspiciously even as she took it from him. "What's this?"

"Coffee."

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Obviously. But…why?"

He shrugged. "Consider it a peace offering."

That made her smile again, this time with a little more feeling. Taking the lid off, she sipped the liquid slowly, her eyes closing as she took her first swallow.

"This is good," she murmured.

"Black with two sugars, right?" Mac asked.

Michelle turned and looked at him for a moment. "How did you know how I take my coffee?"

He shrugged again. "I pay attention."

Her eyes burned and she felt her throat constrict. Inwardly cursing herself, she turned her head away and wiped away a stray tear. Mac noticed, though, and gently took her cup from her, setting both coffees down on the table and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her closer.

Michelle tried to pull away. "I'm sorry –"

"Stop," he said firmly. Slowly, hesitantly, the tension eased out of her body, and she relaxed into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Talk to me."

"I just…it's hard."

"The case?"

"All of it." She gave a hollow chuckle. "It feels so second-grade to say that I hate feeling like the new girl, but it's true."

Mac frowned. "And you don't feel like a part of the team?"

Michelle shrugged. "Sometimes…I don't know. Maybe it was just this case. Maybe it got to me."

"You're one of us," he said firmly, interrupting her. "You're part of the family. They all accept you, Michelle."

She lifted her head from his shoulder and regarded him for a moment. "Even you?"

His brow wrinkled for a moment, as though he hadn't considered that. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead before brushing his lips across hers.

"Even me," he murmured.

Michelle gave him a smile, and he noticed that this time it reached her eyes. Wrapping an arm around his torso, she laid her head back down on his shoulder and closed her eyes.


	30. Words

Michelle curled into his side as soon as he climbed into bed. Smiling, Mac wrapped his arm around her and held her close even as he turned off the light by the bedside.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hey."

"Are you alright?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Michelle…"

Sighing, she kissed his chest. "I don't like when you do hostage negotiation."

He tightened his hold on her. "I know."

They were silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the fact that they had survived another day and that they could end it together. Tracing patterns on his skin, Michelle tried to keep her mind from racing through all the ways the day _might_ have gone, but her brain just wouldn't shut down.

"Talk to me," she said quietly. "Tell me about the case you caught this morning. Before everything that happened at the bank."

Mac looked at her funny. "I didn't think you liked to hear about the lab work."

"I want to today."

Still a little confused, he began talking anyway, going through the evidence they had found at the scene and the discoveries they had made as they processed it. Michelle didn't understand much of the science verbiage, but when it came to Mac, it didn't really matter what the words were. She just needed to hear him, to feel his voice rumble through his chest.

That was how she knew he was really there.


	31. Line

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Mac had tried telling himself that it wasn't supposed to happen at all, but he realized now how foolish that thought had been. It what was going to happen, one way or another – he just wished that it hadn't been this way.

Not that this way was unpleasant. Michelle's body was soft beneath his, but the metal of the locker behind her gave him leverage to press against her. Her silk shirt bunched up in one of his hands and he pulled it up, just enough to brush his skin against hers. The contact shocked his fingers and he touched her back again, just to see if it would happen again – this time the electricity flowed through his entire body.

His lips moved down her neck as he pressed her harder against the locker. He nipped at her skin and then soothed the hurt with his tongue, moaning as her legs came up to wrap around his waist. Then he found the spot just behind her right earlobe, and she gasped, tightening her hold on him.

"Mac," she breathed.

He pulled her away from the locker and stumbled toward the showers.

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_A week later_

"We're heading out for drinks. You coming?"

Mac looked up to see Michelle standing in the doorway to his office. Dropping his eyes quickly, he picked up a file and shook his head.

"Not tonight."

She stared at him for a long minute before nodding and turning away. Mac thought that she was going to leave, but instead she slammed his office door shut and locked in.

"Michelle, what –"

"I can't do this anymore."

He still didn't meet her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't," she snapped. She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was smaller. "Are you so ashamed of sleeping with me that you can't even look at me?"

Mac looked up at her sharply, a frown creasing his face. "That's not it at all."

"No?" she asked. "Because you haven't looked me in the eye since it happened, Mac. You've barely spoken to me. I thought…"

"You thought what?"

She shrugged, and now it was her turn to avoid his eyes. "I thought maybe we had something," she said quietly. "I thought there was something between us." Wiping at her eyes, Michelle stood up straighter and turned back towards the door. "But I guess I was wrong. Don't worry, Mac. I can do my job and pretend it never happened. You don't have to keep ten feet between us at all times."

As she reached for the lock, gentle hands turned her around and cupped her face, and Michelle found herself nose-to-nose with Mac, his eyes boring into hers.

"There is something," he said slowly, his voice low.

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

"Because…you leave me completely unhinged, Michelle."

Her mouth twitched at that. "And that's a bad thing?"

Mac took a deep breath, trying to put his thoughts and feelings into coherent words. "You…" He shook his head. "When I'm around you, I want…"

Her hands came up to rest on his arms. "You want what?"

The fear of confessing his feelings to her knotted in the pit of his stomach, but the fear of her walking out the door kept him talking.

"I want…I want to touch you. All the time. I want to kiss you. I want to make sure that no one hurts you – ever. I can't think straight. I can barely even see straight."

She gave him a gentle smile. "I still don't see why that's a bad thing, Mac."

He sighed. "I'm not used to losing control."

"But there's always supposed to be that one," she told him, reaching up to caress his face. "That one that you can lose control with and still know that you're safe."

"And is that you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Michelle took one of his hands and held it against her heart. "You are _always_ safe with me," she said fiercely.

The truth of her words was clear in her expression. Fighting back the fear that threatened to choke him, he leaned in and kissed her softly, his body inwardly groaning as it remembered how this felt. And as her arms tightened around him, the fear melted away, and he knew that he really was safe.


	32. Anger

Michelle thought she was the only one in the locker room, and when she heard the glass shatter, it made her jump and reach for her gun. Pulling the weapon out of its holster, she moved down the row of lockers cautiously, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.

When she turned the corner though, she stopped, frowning in confusion. Mac stood in front of one of the sinks, his hands gripping the sides; his head was bowed low, and his breathing was heavy. Michelle watched him for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. But then her eyes drifted down to his hands and she immediately holstered her gun and moved toward him.

"Mac."

He turned sharply at the sound of her voice, and she paused, taken aback by the rage in his eyes. It was only for a second, though, and then she was moving forward again and taking his hand.

"Let me see," she said firmly.

She led him over to the nearest bench and sat him down before heading over to the medical locker and pulling out the first aid kit. Glass littered the floor all around the shattered mirror, but she ignored it all, instead focusing on the man in front of her.

"You couldn't get him out of your head, could you?" she asked quietly as she began cleaning the cuts.

Mac stared down at his bloody hand. "He was only four," he explained, his voice low and barely controlling the anger. "His parents were supposed to protect him, not…" He stopped and shook his head, unable to say anything more.

"Not sell him to the highest bidder," she finished, bandaging his hand.

Mac nodded, and she finished patching him up in silence. When she was done, he flexed his hand a couple times before wrapping his fingers around hers. Then he leaned forward slowly, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Michelle closed her eyes and let her hands rest on the back of his neck, gently stroking the skin there.

"You got him, Mac. You got both of them."

He put his hands on her waist and slid her closer. "Sometimes it's not enough," he murmured.


	33. Cross

"Is he always like that?" Michelle asked as she and Stella walked out of Mac's office.

The other detective frowned. "Like what?"

"He's so...cross."

Stella chuckled. "No. He's usually only like that when you've screwed up."

This time it was Michelle who frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

"Then why...?"

"Which means he's being cross with you for another reason."

"And do you know what that reason is?"

Stella nodded. "He's trying to keep himself from flirting with you."

Michelle just stopped and stared.


	34. Speed

"You know, it's actually comforting to know that even the great Mac Taylor can break the law once in awhile," Michelle noted as they got out of the car.

Mac frowned, walking her up the steps and into her building. "What are you talking about?"

"You were speeding."

"I was not."

She laughed. "You so were, Mac. I checked the speedometer."

Grabbing her around the waist, he pinned her against the wall of the stairwell with his body.

"If I was speeding, it was only because someone had their hand up my thigh."

One of her eyebrows shot up. "Oh? And did that give you some ideas?"

He leaned in and kissed her hungrily. "Maybe just a few."


End file.
